By Meggie Inouye
Depending on who you are, the record breaking 22/23 Tahoe winter was either epic or way more than you bargained for or maybe both, regardless, it was lots of hard work and meant that any trail running was a rarity.
When I signed up for Miwok 100k in December 2022, I expected that it would be hard to get my miles in for an early May race so set my training calendar with Nordic skiing and gym workouts but also with ideas that I would head to Reno/Carson/Auburn for some long runs on the weekends preceding. But with storm after storm and the realities of parenting school-aged children with SO MANY SNOW DAYS, my training runs barely happened. My longest training run was an 18-miler in March and any other running I did was jammed in between shoveling and figuring out how to escape from the snow. A trip to Mexico in February and a family road trip through the Southwest in late March kept me sane, but unfortunately, not much running happened.
In early-April I had pretty much written off racing Miwok 100k which was schedule for May 6 and told everyone I wasn’t going to do it. But then DPMR hosted the Trail Running Film Festival, and I got the itch… So on a whim, I signed up for Canyons 25k for April 29. I didn’t set any PRs during Canyons but I did enjoy being on the trail and thankfully recovered easily. I also started getting the feeling that maybe I had more in me. I had already paid the registration fee for Miwok 100k and it was too late to get a refund. Plus, it would be nice to go explore coastal trails in Marin and I had already gotten time off work.
I convinced my husband to let me leave for a long solo weekend away on a “supported trail run”. However, this meant that I would not have any crew BUT I would have aid stations and anything I sent in my two dropbags for Tennessee Valley Aid Station (which I would visit twice at mile 14 and mile 26) and Randall Aid Station (at mile 49). I threw in extra socks, shoes, hat, sports bra, shirt, my favorite Scratch SuperFuel drink mix, and homemade date/cashew/cocoa/salt bars. I went without any expectations…but with a bubbling thought of maybe, just maybe if I had the right kind of day, I might be able to pull it off.
The evening before the race I picked up my number at SF Running Co. in Mill Valley and stayed the night in Larkspur at a hotel I had reserved last minute. The race would start at 5am from the Stinson Beach Community Center. I needed to be there at 4:30am and had a 40 min drive on winding Hwy 1, meaning a very early 3:30am wake up. Another tricky component was the changing forecast. It looked like race day was going to be some combination of rain/fog/wind/sun between 40-60F so I had to be ready for anything.
My adventure started on the way to the race with a foggy, rainy drive around the precarious twists and turns of Hwy 1 behind cars that were (appropriately) SLOW… But I needed to get to the start line!!! At one point, I literally said out loud to myself “I need to arrive alive otherwise I won’t be able to run”… Oh man, it was quite the drive. After parking in the last row at Stinson Beach, I did a quick pee in the parking lot and nearly sprinted the half mile from my car to the community center. I arrived to the start line 15 min before the gun went off. But this did mean LESS time to stand in the rain…which became the theme for the next 3 hours.
As the gun went off, the pack of runners headed out from the Stinson Beach Community Center and quickly merged into single track up the Dipsea Trail. I had never run this trail but heard the lore that it was steep and beautiful. Running and hiking by headlamp with rain in my eyes made it such that the experience was better captured by my other senses… I could hear a creek flowing nearby; the smell of damp earth, redwoods, and ferns filled my lungs; and I already felt completely WET.
At the misty top of Cardiac Hill, I was welcomed by a hint of dawn and the melody of bagpipes. As we headed down, the rain seemed to come in stronger and the trail got muddier and muddier. It was a long, sloppy downhill to the first aid station at Muir Beach where I kept it quick and just got a couple bites to eat, looking forward to the next aid station where my dry clothing awaited me.
On the way toward Tennessee Valley it rained quite a bit more and everything I was wearing was soaked. I tuned into where I was already starting to chaff and made some adjustments and used Squirrels Nut Butter to coat the parts I couldn’t otherwise adjust. At the aid station, I received a surprise warm hello from DPMR member Krissy Polentz, who was there crewing one of her roommates. I grabbed my dropbag and with wet, cold hands changed my sports bra, shirt, socks, and shoes, wishing I had dry shorts (which were chaffing me the most), but noticed the sun was starting to come out, I hoped they would dry soon. I ate and filled up my vest with snacks and fluids and got on my way for the hike up toward Bridgeview.
Thankfully at this point the rain had significantly lightened and some views of the bay were emerging as we headed south running rolling hills through Golden Gate National Recreation Area to the Marin Headlands. The southern terminus revealed beautiful panoramic views of the Golden Gate Bridge, the SF Bay, and the Pacific Ocean.
Back at Tennessee Aid Station at mile 26, I gave myself a mental high five for completing a marathon and checked in with myself. How much further did I think I could go today? Minus the chaffing, everything else was pretty good. No muscle aches. No tummy issues. And I was actually setting a pretty decent pace. If I kept it up, I would be able to finish before the stout 15:30 cutoff that Miwok 100k officials where notorious for strictly enforcing. So, I kept going.
After that it was a bit of a slow-going journey in the sloppy mud but I began to settle in to a mix of running and hiking and started chatting up the racers around me. Their energy pulled me along and eventually, I was back at the top of Cardiac Hill at mile 38.
At this point, I was feeling fatigued and wondered if maybe this “supported training run” should be done. But the aid station crew said something like “You have done 70% of the climbing of the race…the next section of the course has beautiful views and wildflowers…It’s easy from here”. After food and some flat Coke, I decided to believe them and so kept going.
Even though the next 5 miles of course were nearly flat or down, I really struggled. My hips and glutes where cramping terribly and my tummy was off. But in this moment, I remembered that I had experienced this kind of pain before. I specifically recalled my first 100k race where I literally laid down on the ground, cried, and spewed the F-bomb several times because it hurt so bad. But I also remembered how after drinking and eating, I was able to get up, to slowly walk, to eventually jog and then run to finish strong.
I was in the pain cave and now was the time when I knew that all I could do was take it moment by moment. So I ate. I drank. I took some Tums. I walked. I jogged. I turned on music. I said an F-Bomb every time I stumbled over a rock. I thankfully linked up with another racer who was going about my pace but had more of a chipper gait than I, so I drafted. And I got myself to the next aid station.
At the Bolinas Ridge Aid Station, I found a seat and stretched my glutes while focusing on my breathing. A volunteer refilled my hydration mix. I ate more and took more Tums. Then I made myself get up and hike.
The next portion of the course was a wide dirt road of mostly rolling downhill. The stretching and breathing had helped my muscles finally release. I was able to stretch out my stride and look up. The sun was shining brightly with peak-a-boo views of the ocean. It was one of those phoenix rising moments. I had seen this happen before for me and felt the miracle of it again.
My descent to Randall Aid Station was lovely. I turned on my favorite running music (Walk the Moon, I highly recommend them) and, feeling spritely, I passed a handful of people.
I had a dropbag waiting for me at Randall. I changed my socks, shirt, and sports bra. I ate food and drank some Mountain Dew (yuck!! I can only drink that stuff at mile 49+) and turned around and hiked right back up the hill I had just come down.
Then the coolest thing happened, I ran into 3 wonderful friends in a row that I had no idea were running the race – DPMR member Jeff Brown and Sarah and Simon, two dear friends from life 7 years ago in Seattle. Although I could tell they were going through their own struggles, it was so energizing to receive their warm hugs and get to cheer them on their way.
After that, I just kept the tunes rolling and set into a vigorous hike/jog back to Bolinas Ridge and then a cruisy run along the Bolinas Ridge single track trail. I was feeling very positive as I was able to pass quite a number of other racers. I started to get a little fire in me when I spotted the town of Stinson Beach and sped up a bit. I laughed out loud when a gentleman I passed said “I wanna come with…Looks like you’ve got the Holy Spirit in you”.
A sharp right turn lead to a steep descent on the rocky, rooty, low-hanging branchy 2.1 mile Matt Davis Trail. I kept my stride short and hung onto branches with my arms as I made hairpin turns along a creek that turned into a beautiful waterfall. About 400m out I could hear crowds cheering. As I exited the trail onto the road, I was able to do a finishing sprint.
I surprised myself with a 14:48 finish… nearly the same time as my previous 100k at Quicksilver in May 2022 but with less than half of the official training if I didn’t count all the shoveling I had done in winter 2022/23. I was so glad to see a couple of friends at the finish, have a warm meal, and put on my cozy Miwok 100K finishers sweatshirt.
As I left the finish line party, slowly walking to my car by myself, I enjoyed some quiet gratitude. I was so very thankful that my body was stronger than I thought. Thankful that each time I did one of these races I was growing in wisdom of how to work through the tough moments. I was also very thankful that it was no longer raining. I calmly drove up over Hwy 1 enjoying the view of the Pacific Ocean as dusk set it. But as you many of you know, the next day wasn’t as pretty…but that’s a tale for my massage therapist, chiropractor, and poor husband who tolerated all of my whining. ☺
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